In this dramatic monologue for teen girls from the play, “Long Goodbyes”, Lucy sits cross-legged on the floor of her nearly empty bedroom, a worn-out stuffed animal in her lap. She speaks as if addressing the stuffed animal directly.
LUCY: It’s just you and me now, isn’t it, Charlie? Everyone else is already downstairs, waiting. But I don’t think I’m ready to say goodbye yet. I mean, this is it. This is our last night here. Do you remember when I first got you? I was, what, five? Mom put you on my pillow that first night, and I thought, ‘This is home.’ And this room… it became my whole world.
She glances around the room, her eyes landing on faint pencil marks on the wall.
Look at that. My growth chart. Every year, Dad would drag me over here and mark my height. He’d tell me, ‘You’re growing up too fast, kid.’ But now… it’s all staying behind. They’ll probably paint over it. Erase it like we were never here.
Her eyes fall on a small scratch on the windowsill.
And there’s the mark from when I tried to open the window too hard that summer. I wanted to feel the breeze. Mom got so mad, but Dad just laughed. He said it gave the room character. Well, what’s going to happen to this character now? Huh? Someone else is going to live here, Charlie. Some kid who doesn’t even know how special it is. They’ll just put up posters of their favorite band and toss their stuff everywhere like it’s just some… room.
Her tone sharpens, frustration building.
And why do we even have to leave? Why can’t we stay? Why does everything have to change? It’s not fair! I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to be ripped out of my home, my school, my life! Do they even care how much this hurts? They just keep saying, ‘Oh, it’s for the best. You’ll make new memories.’ But I don’t want new memories! I want this! I want what we had, Charlie!
She squeezes the stuffed animal tightly, tears welling up in her eyes. Then she takes a shaky breath, her anger slowly giving way to resignation.
But I guess it doesn’t matter what I want. Does it? They’ve already packed up the car. It’s all gone. Everything that made this place… mine.
She stands, placing Charlie on the windowsill, pausing to look out one last time.
I guess this is goodbye, then. Goodbye, room. Goodbye, home. You’ve been everything to me. And I’ll never forget you. But… I’m still mad.
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